words. ‘If you think it’s been so hard on Phillipa, don’t go asking so many questions about her mother.’
She gaped. ‘I didn’t—’ but then she cut off the denial. She had, in fact, pursued the topic of Phillipa’s mother. She tried another tactic. ‘ Phillipa brought up her mother, if you’ll remember. And I don’t think avoiding the subject is an appropriate response. Phillipa needs to be able to talk to you about your ex-wife without fearing your anger.’
‘What my daughter needs is a mother who doesn’t flaunt her relationship with a twenty-five-year-old Latin toy boy in front of her, but we don’t always get what we want.’ He said it through gritted teeth. Meg had never seen such fury rise so quickly in him. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of it.’
The way he said he’d ‘appreciate’ it clearly meant stay out of it or else. Meg felt a spark of reflexive rebellion ignite. ‘I’m Phillipa’s nanny. What do you suggest I do when the topic of your ex-wife comes up?’
‘I suggest you steer the conversation on to other things and refrain from snooping into subject matter that is none of your concern.’
With that Bryce stalked past her, leaving Meg gaping after him as he ascended the stairs two at a time.
So much for her pleasant morning.
Chapter Five
As ordered, Phillipa went ahead with her violin lesson when the music tutor, Mrs Henderson, arrived at eleven o’clock. Thereafter the sound of Phillipa’s bow being dragged mercilessly across her abused violin strings filled the house and scraped at the enamel on Meg’s teeth.
Meg spent some time cleaning her room lest her tendency to leave her clothes wherever she shucked them aggravate Mrs Dunkirk’s seemingly permanent state of pique, but at last she could stand the noise no longer. Picking up the paperback novel she was partway through reading, she decided to escape to a quiet spot in the garden to read until Phillipa’s lesson was over. Perhaps down by the pool, which would be lovely on this sunny spring morning.
A neatly trimmed hedge rimmed the pool and partially concealed it from the house on one side, while leaving it open to the spectacular vista of Sydney Harbour on the other. Meg had rounded the hedge before she realised the pool was occupied.
Her steps faltered as her eyes caught the sight of Bryce cutting a path through the crystal-clear water, his bare shoulders glistening in the high sunshine, muscles flexing with each fluid stroke. His skin had a sun-kissed appearance that didn’t quite qualify as a tan, but it made him seem like a bronzed Adonis nonetheless.
Meg chastised her fanciful thoughts. He was a man, just like any other. She had to stop seeing him as something more than average. Handsome, smart and compassionate yes, but he had his faults too. He could be overbearing at times, closed off to new ideas. Anyone could see he needed to spend more time with Phillipa, be more open with her about her mother.
Still, it was difficult to keep his foibles in mind when he was half naked, wet and looking gracefully athletic. She wouldn’t get any reading done, that was for sure. Willing her legs to move she managed to execute a half turn. She realised she had dithered about for far too long when, sailing to the edge of the pool, Bryce lifted his head and saw her before she could escape.
‘Meg.’ He puffed out a breath. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘I just got here.’ Oh, about five laps ago. ‘I didn’t realise you’d be here. I’ll just go sit somewhere else.’
‘There’s no need. I’m done here.’
He set his hands on the edge of the pool and used them to lever himself out of the water. The motion was as fluid as his swimming stroke. Water sluiced down his body until a puddle of it gathered on the slate tiles at his feet. Meg kept her eyes lowered, watching those feet — big, sexy feet — as they moved toward one of the sun lounges. She was afraid if she allowed herself to look
She gaped. ‘I didn’t—’ but then she cut off the denial. She had, in fact, pursued the topic of Phillipa’s mother. She tried another tactic. ‘ Phillipa brought up her mother, if you’ll remember. And I don’t think avoiding the subject is an appropriate response. Phillipa needs to be able to talk to you about your ex-wife without fearing your anger.’
‘What my daughter needs is a mother who doesn’t flaunt her relationship with a twenty-five-year-old Latin toy boy in front of her, but we don’t always get what we want.’ He said it through gritted teeth. Meg had never seen such fury rise so quickly in him. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of it.’
The way he said he’d ‘appreciate’ it clearly meant stay out of it or else. Meg felt a spark of reflexive rebellion ignite. ‘I’m Phillipa’s nanny. What do you suggest I do when the topic of your ex-wife comes up?’
‘I suggest you steer the conversation on to other things and refrain from snooping into subject matter that is none of your concern.’
With that Bryce stalked past her, leaving Meg gaping after him as he ascended the stairs two at a time.
So much for her pleasant morning.
Chapter Five
As ordered, Phillipa went ahead with her violin lesson when the music tutor, Mrs Henderson, arrived at eleven o’clock. Thereafter the sound of Phillipa’s bow being dragged mercilessly across her abused violin strings filled the house and scraped at the enamel on Meg’s teeth.
Meg spent some time cleaning her room lest her tendency to leave her clothes wherever she shucked them aggravate Mrs Dunkirk’s seemingly permanent state of pique, but at last she could stand the noise no longer. Picking up the paperback novel she was partway through reading, she decided to escape to a quiet spot in the garden to read until Phillipa’s lesson was over. Perhaps down by the pool, which would be lovely on this sunny spring morning.
A neatly trimmed hedge rimmed the pool and partially concealed it from the house on one side, while leaving it open to the spectacular vista of Sydney Harbour on the other. Meg had rounded the hedge before she realised the pool was occupied.
Her steps faltered as her eyes caught the sight of Bryce cutting a path through the crystal-clear water, his bare shoulders glistening in the high sunshine, muscles flexing with each fluid stroke. His skin had a sun-kissed appearance that didn’t quite qualify as a tan, but it made him seem like a bronzed Adonis nonetheless.
Meg chastised her fanciful thoughts. He was a man, just like any other. She had to stop seeing him as something more than average. Handsome, smart and compassionate yes, but he had his faults too. He could be overbearing at times, closed off to new ideas. Anyone could see he needed to spend more time with Phillipa, be more open with her about her mother.
Still, it was difficult to keep his foibles in mind when he was half naked, wet and looking gracefully athletic. She wouldn’t get any reading done, that was for sure. Willing her legs to move she managed to execute a half turn. She realised she had dithered about for far too long when, sailing to the edge of the pool, Bryce lifted his head and saw her before she could escape.
‘Meg.’ He puffed out a breath. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘I just got here.’ Oh, about five laps ago. ‘I didn’t realise you’d be here. I’ll just go sit somewhere else.’
‘There’s no need. I’m done here.’
He set his hands on the edge of the pool and used them to lever himself out of the water. The motion was as fluid as his swimming stroke. Water sluiced down his body until a puddle of it gathered on the slate tiles at his feet. Meg kept her eyes lowered, watching those feet — big, sexy feet — as they moved toward one of the sun lounges. She was afraid if she allowed herself to look
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